#maybe keeping some of them alive to produce more post stamps later would be a good idea? No? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

girls-scenarios · 4 years

Text

Anything It Takes

Idol: Irene (Red Velvet)

Prompt: i love your writing so much! could you please do a detective! irene au where her s/o (female) gets caught up in a case and irene has to work hard to get her back and make sure shes safe but also get the job done without too much emotion? angst to fluff please! thank you 💖💖

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: So I’ve been binge-watching Miss Fishers Murder Mysteries and that might have been my inspiration while writing this piece. Also, I’m so sorry this took so long for me to write. I have this thing where, when I’m really passionate or I put a lot of work into a scenario, I get scared to post it. Mostly because I desperately want people to like it and I’m scared they wont. Ah, the perils of being a writer. But I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Blood, fighting, weapons, cursing.

♡ Tip Jar♡

Irene knew how dangerous her job was. Almost every single day of her life, she was in some sort of danger, especially because of the types of cases she took. As a detective, and especially as a female detective, she had plenty of enemies. The mafia, local gangs, relatives and friends of criminals with a penchant for revenge, and even fellow detectives: they could all be a threat. She knew this and she knew it well, but she also knew that she could hold her own against all of them. Their threats never scared her off a case: she’d see everything through to the end even if it killed her.

Somehow, though, she’d never thought that the criminals would go this far. She’d never thought they’d target you; not until she came home and opened the door to find the apartment destroyed, ransacked.

Immediately, her heart fell into her stomach and her hands began to shake as she called your name, only to get silence in return. Dropping her bag at the doorway, she didn’t even bother to take off her shoes as she raced further inside. Chairs were knocked over and surrounded by broken glasses in the kitchen, and as she turned towards the bedroom, once again yelling your name, she noticed the blood.

“Oh god no!” She stumbled through the mess from the kitchen and found an even worse scenario waiting for her in the bedroom. The entire mattress had been shoved off the bed, showing a struggle, and a broken lamp laid shattered next to the doorway. The curtains and curtain rod had been yanked from the window, and on the ground, a trail of blood led to the side of the bed near the window. Irene held her breath as she rounded the bed, then stood still.

You weren’t there, but the carpet was stained dark with blood that was dragged to the open window. She choked out a sob as she stared at the blood, then slowly dropped to her knees.

You were gone. And she had no idea if you were alive or dead.

As she took deep breaths, trying to keep herself together, she noticed something gleam under the mattress. When she pulled it up to check, she saw a blood-covered knife laying there and realized that you must have kicked it under the mattress when you were struggling with your captors. The sight reminded her that she was a detective, and she pushed her emotions to the back of her throat as she put the mattress back and pulled out her phone before heading out of the apartment.

She needed to check the outside too, after all.

“I need backup,” she said as soon as her captain Jessica picked up the phone.

“What’s going on?”

“Someone broke into the apartment and (Y/N) is gone. There’s blood, a weapon, the window was busted open, and the apartment is destroyed. Someone abducted her.”

“Oh god. I’ll get backup there immediately. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? If you run off and get yourself hurt, it’ll only put (Y/N) in more danger.”

“Yes, Captain.” Irene was only half listening. Outside the window, there were tire marks in the alleyway, as well as blood, broken glass, and a watch. As she hung up the phone, she cursed herself for renting a first-floor apartment. How could she be so stupid? She hadn’t thought things through, and now you were gone and hurt, and she didn’t know if she could get to you in time.

Feeling herself begin to hyperventilate, she leaned against the building and closed her eyes, trying to think. Who would have taken you? Who had she pissed off recently? Well, that was quite the list to narrow down. She’d pissed off most major and minor crime organizations in the town. Any one of them could have done it. But was this for revenge? Or for leverage?

Her current case came to mind: a drug smuggling ring at the docks. She knew so far that a few wealthy and well-liked businessmen were in on the deal, and that the smuggling was making them a pretty penny. She also knew that it was likely to be cocaine that they were smuggling, and that it was coming in on a specific merchant ship owned by one of the businessmen, disguised under produce and other imported goods from South America. They stood a lot to lose if Irene succeeded in busting them, including their positions of power. Was that reason enough to kidnap you?

She opened her eyes and reached into the inside pocket of her blazer, pulling out the pair of gloves that she kept on her for cases. After pulling them on, she picked up the watch and examined it closely. It wasn’t yours.

It was a man’s watch, rather old from the looks of it, with an engraved stamp on the back. It was some sort of symbol....

Sirens alerted her to the backup and she breathed a sigh of relief, going out to meet them. Her head was still too muddled with worry to make good decisions. She needed the help.

“Irene!” It was Seulgi, her fellow detective, who stepped out of the first car and walked over to her. She looked worried as well, but Irene was relieved. She knew Seulgi could do the job well. “Are you okay?” The other woman asked as she grabbed Irene’s shoulders. Slowly, Irene shook her head.

“To be honest with you, no. I’m really worried and shaken up and I’m really glad you’re here.”

Seulgi frowned and gave Irene a quick hug before pulling away with a stern look. “We’ll take it over from here. You go down to the station and get some coffee and take a breather. I’ll meet you there after we do a thorough search and we’ll talk. Okay?”

As much as Irene wanted to stay, she knew she wouldn’t be able to help. She was much too upset. “Okay,” she said, giving in and holding out the watch in her hand. “Here’s a piece of evidence I found outside the window. There’s also a knife under the mattress in the bedroom. I did my best not to disturb the crime scene.”

“Thank you, Irene.” Seulgi took the button and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll find (Y/N). I swear.”

“Thank you.” For a moment, Irene watched as Seulgi walked away and called to the officers to follow her. Then, she let out a sigh and ran her hand over her face. She really did need some strong coffee. And maybe a drink.

“We found a witness upstairs who says they heard a loud sound and looked outside to see a car speeding away from the alley,” Seulgi said a few hours later, talking to a calmed down Irene. “The time frame matches the estimated abduction time, but unfortunately the license plate was marked out. However, the witness did say that it was a beat up old Cadillac and that there was a bumper sticker on the back window.”

“A bumper sticker?” Irene sipped her coffee and tried not to think about what you might be going through. “That could be a clue.”

“According to the witness, the sticker seemed to be a smoking gun. They can’t say for sure, but they thought it looked like a pistol, and there was some wording under it. They said they’d never seen anything like it before.”

“Hmm. Could help. At least that’s something. Did you find anything else?”

Seulgi sighed and flipped through her note pad. “We found the knife and the watch and sent them through for fingerprint testing. It seems like (Y/N) put up one hell of a fight.”

“They wouldn’t go easy.”

“I don’t think the abductors were expecting it though. They were kind of messy. We found what we think is some of their blood on the broken lamp as well, so we sent it all through for testing. All we got from the security cameras was that one of the guys threw a rock at it as they drove in. Busted the screen completely so that nothing else was visible.”

“Damn it.”

“But we have quite a bit. Once we run those prints and take a closer look at the watch, we might be able to narrow down some suspects.”

“Thank you, Seulgi.” Irene put her glass down and sighed, shaking her head. “But I think I know who did it.”

“Who?”

“I’ve been investigating a cocaine smuggling ring, and I was getting close to busting it. I believe the boss is one Mr. Park, the same Mr. Park who owns a shipping business. I think his merchant ships are bringing in cocaine and disguising the operation by also shipping products and produce from South America to local stores and clientele. I just need proof so that I can raid the warehouse I’m suspecting.”

“What makes you think they did it?”

“First of all, the watch. On the back of it in an engraved symbol. I thought it seemed familiar, so I went through my notes and sure enough, it’s the logo for the shipping company: Park and Co.”

“What a lucky find,” Seulgi said, leaning over to look at the note Irene pulled from her pocket.

“I think (Y/N) had something to do with it.”

“I think you’re right. They’ve been leaving us clues.”

“Do you think this is enough for a search warrant?”

Seulgi sighed and sat back into her chair. “I doubt it. Mr. Park is a rich man, and it’s always hard to get permission to ‘trouble’ rich men. But I’m going to go check on those fingerprints. A lot of sailors have a record, and if they’ve ever been arrested, we’ll have their finger prints. If we have that, we should be able to get a warrant.”

Irene bit her lip and clasped her hands together. “Can I not at least go have a look around?” She asked, and Seulgi shook her head.

“I wouldn’t advise it. It’s late, Irene. If you need a place to stay, my house is always open.”

The older woman sighed and shook her head, turning back to her desk. “No, but thank you. I’m going to stay here and do some work.”

Seulgi frowned, but didn’t comment, instead standing up and patting Irene’s shoulder. “Don’t overwork yourself and get some sleep. I’ll see you again in the morning.”

“Have a good night.” Irene watched Seulgi walk away once again, then turned back to her desk and sighed, running her fingers through her hair. You where out there somewhere and the clock was ticking. And she couldn’t do anything.

Irene was not used to being a mess. Even before she was promoted to be a detective, she was cool and level headed, known for being the detective no one wanted to mess with. She had cracked cases no one else could and could get criminals to confess with her cold eyes. And yet now, she was a mess, dark circles under her eyes and her hair a mess, sleeping at her desk because she couldn’t go home knowing you were out there, hurt and needing help.

When morning finally came, Irene decided that she couldn’t wait anymore. After washing her face in the bathroom and making herself presentable again, she walked out onto the streets, searching for strong coffee and something to disguise herself in.

When she came back an hour later, fully caffeinated with shopping bags in hand, Seulgi stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“We ran those prints and found a match. It’s a guy named Gus White, he’s a deckhand for Park and Co.”

For the first time, hope surged in Irene’s chest. “Good, is that enough for a search warrant?”

Seulgi sighed, and the hope dropped away. “The Captain wants us to bring him in for an interview first. She said that’s the best way to go about doing this. I know you’re worried, Seulgi, but orders are orders.”

“Yeah.” Irene frowned. “Orders are orders.”

“You’re planning on going over there in disguise.” Seulgi looked down at the bags, then back at Irene, looking right through her.

“How did you know?”

“We’ve been on the force together how long?” She gave her a wry smile. “I know you, Irene.”

“Then you know that I can’t just stand here and do nothing.”

“I know. Just be careful. Please.” With that, Seulgi walked away, and Irene headed for the bathroom, her jaw clenched. She was going to get you back, no matter what it took.

For once, Irene was glad the was short. In her disguise, she almost looked like a local boy, and she smiled, satisfied as she checked her gun and placed it in a concealed holster around her stomach. Like this, she could walk near the docks without anyone suspecting her, although she’d still have to be careful. She slipped out the back doors of the office so that no one would see her and set off down the road, keeping her head down and her mind on one thing: you.

Once she got to the docks, she hunched her shoulders over and slipped closer to the warehouse she suspected was being used for smuggling. Thankfully, the docks were easy to slip around in: they were full of giant boxes and shipping containers that she could easily hide behind, and the loud noises from the boats as they loaded and unloaded made it easier for her to go unheard. She watched, blending in with the shadows, as groups of men left the surrounding warehouses and left for lunch, leaving the docks almost empty.

As she crept closer to the warehouse, she noticed a beat up black Cadillac parked next to the back entrance. Underneath and around it, she could see dark spots that lead to the door, and her gut twisted. Blood. Taking a deep breath, she looked around, making sure that her coast was clear, before slipping over to take a closer look at the car. She walked like she thought a boy might, nonchalantly swaggering over to the car to look at the back window.

A bumper sticker with a smoking pistol and the words “leave none behind” underneath it stared back at her, and she swallowed. This was the bumper sticker, meaning her hunch was correct. They were holding you here, if you were still alive. Trying not to think of the other option, she quickly went back to a safe hiding spot behind a stack of shipping containers near another warehouse and pulled out her phone.

When Seulgi answered, she sounded nervous. “Irene? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I found the Cadillac. It has the bumper sticker,” Irene whispered, her eyes darting out to the road. “It’s parked near the back entrance of the warehouse, and there’s blood.”

“That should convince Jessica for a search warrant.”

“Did you get anywhere with the Gus guy?”

“He was all clawed up and he had a cut on his arm. Once we told him that we had his fingerprints and his DNA from blood at the crime scene, he cracked. He just now confessed and said they took (Y/N) because Mr. Park was going to use her to make you stop investigating, and that they’re holding (Y/N) inside the warehouse.”

“I thought as much.” Hope once again soared. “Does that mean they’re still alive?”

“Seems like it, although we need to be fast. I’m going to talk to Jessica now, and Joy has gone to round up some backup. Don’t do anything stupid until I get there.”

“No promises,” Irene whispered, “I know Mr. Park. If he knows we found him, he’ll kill them. I’m going in.”

“Wait for me,” Seulgi begged, “Please, it’s too dangerous.”

“No one’s around right now,” Irene argued. “Everyone has gone on lunch. I’m going to go in and try to secure the area. Hurry.”

“God damn it, Irene, you-.” Before Seulgi could finish her sentence, Irene hung up. She felt bad, but she slipped the phone into her pocket and clenched her teeth. You were in there, in danger, and she was going to get to you before Mr. Park or any of his goons did. Standing up, she picked up a nearby rock and placed it in the pocket of her baggy hoodie before she slipped out from her hiding spot and headed back for the warehouse.

She wasn’t going to try the back door: if there was anyone guarding you, that was where they were going to be. Despite her lack of sleep, she was alert as she slipped around the side and noticed a small side door. That would be her entrance.

Carefully, she tried the handle and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Unlocked. As it creaked open, she peeked inside. There was a single, unoccupied chair and another door in the otherwise bare room, and when she noticed the camera in the corner, she froze and listened.

No one seemed to be moving beyond the next door, so she crept in, breathless and sticking to the wall, and reached up to cut the cord to the camera with her knife. The little red light blinked out, and she stopped to listen once again. No one. So had the person watching the security cameras gone out to lunch too? Bad security for a drug lord, but she thanked her luck and slipped over to the next door. It was locked, but no locked door had ever been able to keep her out before. Using a small lock pick she’d grabbed from her blazer, she studied the lock for a moment before picking it and slowly opening the door.

A huge room opened up in front of her, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. So this was the base of operations. The warehouse ceiling reached up towards the sky and every sound echoed in the cavernous space. Stacks of boxes she could only assume were filled with cocaine lined the walls, and she stopped as she listened closely.

Footsteps could be heard from somewhere inside the huge room, and she held her breath, deciphering where they were coming from. They weren’t coming closer. Instead, they seemed to be... Pacing. Near the back door. Ah, so that was the guard. No other evidence of life could be heard, so she slipped from the door to her right instead of towards the footsteps in order to get a better view of the room. In front of her on the other side of the warehouse, she saw a room with one window and no ceiling, just walls and a door. From the window, she could see lights from a computer.

On the other side of the warehouse, a large metal box-like room caught her eye. It had a door and what seemed to be a moving slab at the bottom to slide things into the room without opening the door. If she had to bet, she would bet that you were inside. Her first instinct was to run to you, but she knew that she had to take out the guard before she did anything rash.

No one had been in the security room, as she’d been able to cut the camera and get away with it, so she crept over to the small room and checked the door. Locked. However, without the ceiling.... An idea struck her and she pulled the rock from her pocket, carefully tossing it over the wall before hiding herself behind a pile of boxes.

The footsteps stopped, then muttering began. She made out that the man was talking about rats and Frank taking long bathroom breaks. Then the footsteps began to walk towards the security room.

“That you, Frank? Come on, man, you know the boss doesn’t like it when you take breaks like this. What did you break this time?” The man came into view a moment later and checked the handle, then frowned. “Huh, just rats?” He looked around, and Irene held her breath, afraid he might not open the door. Then, finally, he pulled the keys from his pocket, and she wrapped her fingers around a thick piece of wood near her feet. It should do the job.

As soon as he stepped inside, scratching his head and looking around, she sprung up and raised the plank. Despite her small frame, she was strong from years of training, and when she brought the wood down, it hit hard and the man slumped to the ground with a short groan. After standing still to make sure he was out and no one else was alerted, Irene darted inside and grabbed his keys and her rock, then slashed the cords to the cameras and stepped back over his body. He was still breathing, and she didn’t know how much time she had before he woke up. Still, to buy her some time, she locked and closed the door on her way out before running as quietly as she possibly could to the metal box on the other side of the warehouse.

Shuffling echoed from the box as she approached, and her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of blood near the door. Despite her calculated take down, her hands her shaking, and so the keys took her longer than they usually would. She tried key after key, listening to the shuffling inside and hoping that you were okay. Finally, a key fit, and she threw open the door, her breath caught in her throat.

She saw you immediately. You were tied to a chair in the corner of the room and your eyes widened as she stepped inside and let out a sigh of relief. Rushing to you, she pulled out your gag, and you immediately burst into tears, trying to stay quiet despite the obvious distress you were in. As she reached back to cut away the ropes, the sight of your bloodied arm, wrapped crudely in an old rag, made her boil inside. She slashed the ropes off and then embraced you, holding you close and cradling your head.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “I’m here now, you’re going to be okay.”

“I was so scared,” you whispered back, desperately trying not to sob. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“I’ll support you.” Irene slipped her arm under yours to help you up, supporting you with her small frame. You were unstable on your feet, your limbs asleep from being tied up for almost two days, but you managed to walk after a moment, wincing with every step as you stepped out of the box and towards the back doors.. “We just have to get outside, I have help on the way, we can-.”

A sound echoed through the warehouse, and Irene’s hand immediately went to her gun, pulling it from its holster. Your eyes were wide again, full of fear and tears, and she swallowed, pulling you back behind a pile of boxes and listening.

Footsteps. Lots of them. People were coming towards the middle of the warehouse.

“I told you fools to watch the place!” Mr. Park’s voice boomed through the room. “Then I see that the security cameras have been cut out, and where are you? On the fucking toilet!”

“S-sorry boss,” stuttered the security guard, who Irene guessed was Frank, his voice strangled. “I was only gone for a moment, I swear-.”

“A moment is all it takes, you moron!” Mr. Park bellowed, then the footsteps stopped at the large doors leading into the main room. “You pieces of shit, look! The prison door is open!”

“There’s no way,” another voice said, “we have people stationed outside, there’s no way someone got out.”

“Where were those people when she got in?” Mr. Park snarled.

“Um,” the voice was meeker this time. “At lunch.”

“Morons!” The sharp sound of a slap echoed through the room, and Irene winced. “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.” He then chuckled. “Isn’t that right, Irene?”

You whimpered, but Irene stayed silent, holding her gun at the ready and listening closely. Judging from the murmuring and the footsteps, there seemed to be at least five people, although the one who had gotten slapped might be out of action. Mr. Park had big hands. Then if the man in the security office woke up, it would be six. She had no doubt that she could out-shoot Mr. Park, but a shoot-out with six people, with you wounded behind her? The odds were not in her favor, to say the least.

“I know you’re still here, Detective. Did you enjoy our little game? You know, I’m glad you showed. Because now that you’re here, I can kill you both.”

Irene’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and her eyes widened. Seulgi. She pulled it out as quietly as possible and looked at the message.

-We’re almost to the warehouse now. Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid

-I did. Hurry. Guard outside, at least six inside.

-God damn it. Be there in two.

“There!” Someone had heard the phone buzz, and a shot echoed, piercing through one of the boxes to Irene’s right. White powder fell out and she rolled her eyes. There was the cocaine, at least.

“Don’t shoot until we know where she is, dumbass. We don’t know if she’s alone. Split up, Thomas and Frank search the right and Cho and Mike search the left. We’ll flush them out.”

An idea struck Irene then, and she looked down at her phone, licking her lips. It might work, if....

“Alright, you got me, I ran off alone and it’s just me. But It’ll take more than six of you to flush me out.” With her words, she threw the rock against the opposite side of the warehouse, and guns exploded, firing into the boxes and sending a smoke of white powder into the air. A few of the men began to cough, and with the powder as a distraction, she turned her body, peeked over the box behind her, aimed, and fired.

The man closest to her true hiding place dropped, and more gunfire erupted. Beside her, you whimpered and she turned to help you move back, further behind the metal box. Unless the bullets ricocheted, they wouldn’t reach you there.

“Shit, where is she? I can hardly see through all this-.”

“You dumb asses, she’s playing with you. Give me that.” Mr. Park growled as he cocked his gun, and she swallowed. God, this was going to be so much paperwork. If she got out of this. “Where else could they be hiding? They’re over by the prison!”

You closed your eyes and curled into a ball, and she took a deep breath, covering you with her body and keeping her pistol aimed for the small opening as his steps got closer. She might die, but she’d die protecting you. Just as she was moving her finger towards the trigger, sirens screeched through the afternoon air, and the footsteps stopped.

“Fuck, I thought she said that she came alone?” One of the men yelled.

“Let’s just kill these two and-.”

“Police! Hands in the air where I can see them, we’ve got you all surrounded.” Seulgi’s voice echoed loud and clear, and Irene jumped to her feet, pressing her pistol into one Mr. Park’s’ back.

“That means you too, sir,” she said sweetly, despite the fact that she truly wanted to throttle him right then and there. He glared at her, his hands still clutching at the gun, but as his men surrendered all around him and cops came pouring in, he dropped his weapon. “Thank you.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, slowly putting his hands in the air. “You were trespassing on my property, I won’t let you-.”

“I had a warrant,” Irene said, her eyes twinkling, and Seulgi grinned as she walked up with handcuffs.

“That we do. Mr. Park, you are under arrest for attempted murder, kidnapping, and the possession, production, and sell of illegal substances. You have the right to remain silent.” As the other woman cuffed Mr. Park’s hands, Irene turned back to you. You looked pale as she rushed to your side, and she checked your forehead.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” she said, and you nodded slowly.

“Yeah. But I can’t move. I think I’m gonna....” And with that, you slumped forward into Irene’s arms. Her heart pounded and she turned back to Seulgi, her eyes wild.

“I need help, (Y/N) just passed out and they’ve lost a lot of blood!”

“Get the ambulance,” Seulgi barked, shoving Mr. Park forward and gesturing at the cops under her. “Hurry, or we might lose them!”

“Yes ma’am!”

As the chaos continued around her, Irene looked down at you and tried not to cry, kissing your forehead and holding you close while applying pressure to your wound in hopes that the blood would stop.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though she wasn’t sure you could hear. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Time had never seemed to go by so slowly. Irene was still in her disguise clothes as she sat in the chair next to your hospital bed, gazing down at you. The doctors had said that you would be okay: that you had just lost a lot of blood and needed to sleep and recover after your blood transfusion, but she couldn’t help but stay worried. The only time she’d left your side was to help Seulgi with paperwork over the case. Thankfully, with the cameras cut, there was no proof of Irene going in before the warrant was issued, and Seulgi had explained that she had asked Irene to go in to secure the scene early. The man Irene had shot had lived, and so there was thankfully less paperwork to deal with. Her case had wrapped up in a little bow, and now she was back in the bedside seat, waiting for you to wake up.

She was exhausted, but she couldn’t sleep, rotating between watching you and watching the clock. How could she even face you now? Everything was her fault. She hadn’t thought ahead, and she hadn’t been able to protect you. She’d been naive, and you’d paid the price. If she wasn’t a detective, or if you weren’t dating her, this would have never happened to you. She wasn’t sure if the guilt hanging over her shoulders would ever go away, and the silence of the sterile hospital room did nothing to ease her worries.

Just as she was about to get up to grab coffee, you opened your eyes, and she froze. After a moment, you coughed and blinked, turning your head.

“Irene?”

“I’m here, baby,” she said softly, coming to your side and taking your hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” you croaked, and she frowned. “My whole body hurts and I feel so tired. I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so sorry.” She squeezed your hand and shook her head, her tears finally spilling from her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

You gave her a small smile and reached up to weakly wipe away her tears. “Well, now you know how I feel when you’re at work.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, not knowing what else to say. “I couldn’t protect you. This was all my fault.”

“Irene, no, I don’t blame you. There are bad people in the world, and you work to stop those people. I chose to date you even though I knew the risks. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“I should have known better.” She pressed her forehead to your hand. “I never wanted you to get involved in any of this. I never thought this would happen. I couldn’t sleep just thinking about you. I know you must have gone through hell, all because of me.”

You fell silent for a moment. “It was scary,” you finally said, voice soft. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop having nightmares. I tried to fight them off but they were too strong, and it was the scariest moment of my life. Even scarier than being locked in that awful room. But I knew you’d find me.”

Irene looked up at you, her eyebrows raised. “You did?”

“I did. Because you’re a good detective, I knew you’d see the clues I left you. When I realized that the were going to take me away, I fought with them and got them to drop the knife so I could kick it away and hide it. I knew that, even if I died, they’d be able to get fingerprints from the weapon.”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” she whispered with a shiver, and you nodded, shaking a bit as well.

“I know, but that was what was going through my mind. Then I managed to get one of their watch’s off and I dropped it outside the window as they carried me over their shoulder. I also knew that, since I was bleeding, there would be a trail of blood everywhere I went. They wrapped my arm up in the car because they said their boss wanted me alive, but I loosened it enough to drop blood when we got out of the car and walked to the room. I knew you’d be looking for me, and I wanted you to help find me.”

“It was all a help. Seriously. The watch told me who had taken you, the knife got the fingerprints of one of the kidnappers who confessed and got us the warrant, and because of the blood, I was able to know you were in that room. Without those, I might have been too late.” The two of you shivered again, and Irene sighed. “I’m going to get us a new place. With all new security. I’ll do anything it takes to make sure that you’re always safe from now on. But if you want to break up with me, I’d understand.”

“Irene. Listen to me.” You touched her face and smiled. “I love you. Yes, I’m really shaken up by all of this, but I don’t blame you. You saved me, and I knew you would. It’s going to take a lot more than a rich man with a bunch of dumb goons to scare me away from you.”

Relief settled over her shoulders and she found herself smiling as well. “I love you too (Y/N). So much. And I am more relieved right now than you will ever know.” She knew that it would take time for the both of you to recover. She knew that this was something the two of you would never forget, and she knew that the future was going to be different now. She knew the guilt she felt was going to linger for a long time. But right now, you were alive, you were safe, and you loved her. And that was all she cared about.

#femifics #red velvet #irene #bae irene #bae joohyun #red velvet scenarios #irene scenarios #irene scenario #bae irene scenarios #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

110 notes · View notes

nyruratchet · 5 years

Text

Notes 5 - It’s Been A While

This is not the life I though I’d have. I had so many plans. But life has been stolen. I’m sitting here my bed, in a tiny NYC room that I pay way too much for, with a roommate next door who takes me for granted, and bills staring me in the face every which way I turn.

I did everything I was supposed to. Every damned thing that was asked of me and I ended up HERE. I wanted to be a performer, but my parents didn’t support me going to California or Rutgers right out of High School to pursue my passion. This was very selfish on their part and I think I will carry resentment for that until the day I die. Because I will never ever know what could have been. But I own my part in that decision. I could have defied them, sure; been “cut-off” (from what I’m still trying to figure out...we still have no money). But instead, I did what they wanted and ended up nowhere and with nothing to show for my obedience...but I digress.

Sorry, it has been a minute since I last wrote. I had started dating someone and...actually thought again if I put all my effort into it, that finally there would be fruits of my labor. Again, life gave me a big fuck you. Why didn’t it work? I chased him far longer than I should have. I accepted far too little from him in return for what I was willing to give. Distance was an issue, but it could have been bearable had he been able to meet me halfway. He’s a good person. Just has lots of growing up to do. He will get there though; but without me. So, it didn’t fit and I cried SO much until I realized I didn't love him and I wasn’t ever going to. Aint that some shit; finally a guy “wants’” to date me and I’m the one who has to end it. I guess the first try is always destined to be a failure?

I posted recently about my role in friendships. YES, I know I have been MIA. But if you don’t understand why I’ve been physically non-present...I don’t know what to tell you. I try my damndest to respond to all texts; but sometimes my mind doesn’t allow it to happen. This year has hit me SO much harder than I thought possible. Therefore, all my energy has been put into staying alive. Now, don’t be afraid of me saying that. I’m not looking to end my life. But when life keeps dragging you beneath the current and you keep rising enough to barely catch a tiny breath before being plunged into the fathoms below once more, you begin to wonder if you should just go with that flow and let it carry you away. Talk to someone? Been there, done that. Doesn’t help me. My problems are tangible. Money, Career, Love. Period. Scheduled venting sessions offer me no resolution. I entered myself into therapy in college. Went on for 4 years until it was no longer covered. Then when I got on employment a few years later in NYC, I resumed for another year hoping maybe someone else could help me figure out why I’m so miserable. 4 therapists/counselors later...nothing. So, I stopped paying the mere $30 copay there was (which was still a struggle because I was on food stamps as it is; still pursuing my dream to be on Broadway and become a recording artist) and went on with trying to at least solve one of my problems...money. So, I got a job instead of being a starving artist.

Inflight crewmember with JB. FML. Why did I do this to myself? I did. I was in a bad place and things got a bit better but now I’m worse off. Mo money, mo problems?? HARDLY. Money would solve most of my problems right now.

Rent. Utilities. Food (I make too much to be on food stamps no...so says the gov’t). Mental Health. Music...

Oh my music...So, I told you all I would explain more on why good artists struggle to get GOOD music out. Here goes my attempt:

1. Write music: doing this on your “off-time” from working for someone else’s business is exhausting. But if you love it and are driven, you can do it. I have many songs that I have written tired as shit after my redeyes. I’m actually a beast at catchy melodies, lyrics, and vocal harmonies.

2. Purchase equipment/software: Home studios or some type of set-up is pretty much a necessity. I need to have song fully imagined so the producer and technicians know the progression when recording and building the song. (Mic-$80, Logic X pro-$200, Studio Headphones: ~$100, Pop filter: ~$20, New computer: (varies, but given that I’ve had computers crash etc. I’ll tell the most recent price) $2500,

3. Find a producer: So...unless you have magical fingers and can play instruments, the next step is finding a talented producer to do your backing track/orchestration. And good producers need to be PAID by the hour for a custom production. (~$25-50/hr) OR you can purchase exclusive rights to a already produced beat for a for ~$150...but even those can get pricey.

4. Book a studio: So, if you’re doing an original song you will definitely need multiple studio sessions. For one song I worked on, I spent about $700 dollars for 3 sessions only 3-4hrs long each.

5. Proper mixing/mastering: there are online services that can do quick mastering. LANDR cost me $15/month. But when I’m doing original music, that needs professional mastering/mixing. What does that mean? More time for you or an audio engineer you trust to be in a studio. So, depending on who/where that is...lets say ~$25-75/hr (good mixing will take a few hours at least on the first sit down.

6. Song is done. What’s next? Promotion...see where this is going? Social media. You need photos/artwork which its own separate expense if you don’t do your own. And then if you aren't yourself a IG/Twitter/Snap influencer with 20K followers, you need to pay them to post your song so people give a shit to even listen let alone PURCHASE your art on iTunes/Amazon/Tidal/Soundcloud. And influencers/promotion services charge HUNDREDS. So, when I beg and plead my friends to SHARE, LIKE and post I’m doing so because I need your help. I can’t ever afford good promotion.

7. Release Music: You have to pay to release your music on streaming/music services ~$40. They then take a percentage of sales from each platform.

Now, your ONE song is out. Lets say a couple thousand people streamed the song for free on Spotify or Pandora. How much you think an artist gets? Well, lets put it this way. I’ve done a few songs and have seen no money. I’m literally hemorrhaging money just to do something I love. But that forces me to do more of what I hate is being a flight attendant. Why don't I do something else? Oh honey, trust me...I’ve been working since I was 15. Dont you think I’m looking? I’ve been looking and brainstorming. Nothing is looking good. So, yes I know I’m the only one who can get myself out of a situation I don’t like. But it is beyond me right now. But I DO wake up each day hoping I find SOME way to make a change. But I do fear I will reach the point of hopelessness fairly soon; and the point is different than the braking point aforementioned.

So, I was doing all of this music creation on top of a depressing dating experience and roommate issues AND job related stress. I’m honestly not sure how I’m alive. I’m not suicidal but at one point I contemplated calling a hotline to see exactly what they are trained to do should I reach the braking point. I didn’t do it. I cried myself to sleep again; rolled out of bed the next day to go to work as so many adults do. I KNOW I’m not the only one struggling. But when your lot in life feels like a mistake and loneliness is staring you in the face every day you are “blessed” to open your eyes, you keep asking yourself (well, I keep asking Myself...) Why the FUCK am I here? No one (on the grand scheme of things) is paying attention my music and guys literally seemed repulsed when I express interest. I’m know I’m supposed to matter but, this world keeps telling me otherwise. So, yeah...sorry, it has been a while. But without music, I guarantee I’d be gone by now. Guess we’ll see how long this will last.

0 notes

reneeacaseyfl · 5 years

Text

On Whose Land Do You Sit?: raceAhead

Hugh Weber is a consultant, a creative convener, a marketer, a design expert, an advocate for rural communities, and a dear friend to raceAhead.

So, I was prepared for his most recent TEDx talk, organized in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to be inspiring. But his elegant introduction got my attention first.

He talked about the collective inheritance of place, made more complex by how people came to be in that uniquely “American” room. “Some of us… not many of us, came from ancestors who were brought here against their will,” he said, others were drawn in by the hope of a better future. “And others have lived here since the beginning of time.”

“Since I believe that the foundations of community are acknowledgement, trust, and a mutual respect across barriers of heritage, belief, and difference… I would like to acknowledge that this event is being held on the traditional ancestral lands of the Ochente Shakoan people.”

This simple acknowledgment is becoming more common now, finding its way into high profile moments, like Anne Hathaway’s similar acknowledgment when she received her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame this spring.

“I started to think about the land that goes underneath the star, that land that goes beneath all of these stars, and how it was cared and kept for millennia, more than millennia, by the Tongva people,” she said. “I think it’s important to mention that they still live here today. So the soul and the spirit that runs through the earth beneath us originates with and continues to be kept by them.”

“So I would like to begin by thanking the Tongva people and by acknowledging that they are the rightful keepers of the land this star is on.”

But they’re also found in everyday moments, too.

The United States is late to the land acknowledgment practice, lagging behind New Zealand, Australia, and Canada. There, schools, meetings, even hockey games frequently begin with even a perfunctory acknowledgment, explains Teen Vogue. “An acknowledgment might be short: ‘This event is taking place on traditional Chickasaw land.’ Or it might be longer and more specific: ‘We are gathered today on the occupied territory of the Musqueam people, who have stewarded this land for generations.’”

I am writing this column today on the ancestral lands of the Tequesta people. They hunted, fished, and lived their lives in this beautiful place. From what I can gather, they were slowly devastated by European diseases starting in the 1500s, embroiled in colonial-era conflicts, and pestered to convert to Christianity against their will. Most Tequesta survivors were sent to Cuba by the Spanish by the mid-1700s. Only ten words from their language have been preserved.

I can now attest that land acknowledgment really makes you feel some type of way.

Felicia Garcia (Chumash) and Jane Anderson, both associated with the Museum Studies department at New York University, have compiled a comprehensive guide to land acknowledgment statements for arts and education organizations which looks like an excellent resource for everyone else, too.

Northwestern University has an interesting resource that shares their work with healing and acknowledgment. They’ve posted a list derived from a steering group of Native and Indigenous people who shared what the practice means to them. Here are a few choice ones: Addressing invisibility; defrosting the past; feels good spiritually/emotionally; can be performative; must be paired with action; honoring.

It’s all part of the delicate work of decolonizing, a journey very few organizations or individuals have begun in any kind of earnest. Maybe it’s just the oppressive heat of the racist times we’re living in, but “defrosting the past” sounds like something worth doing.

Let me know what you think.

By the way, Weber works as a professional “creative counsel,” advancing the aims of creative organizations by connecting the dots between their capabilities and possibility. His excellent TEDx talk, well worth your time, soon moved from the dusty plains of Ochente land to a miraculous school in the D.C. neighborhood where a fifteen-year-old “king” named Gerald Watson had been shot and killed.

He quickly makes the case that all dots are there to be connected if you’re just willing to open your heart and look. Enjoy.

On Point

Protecting Hawaii’s Mauna Kea The dormant volcano has tremendous significance to many kanaka ’ōiwi (native Hawaiians), explains marine paleoecologist Sara Segura Kahanamoku. But now, kiaʻi (guardians) are currently holding vigils to stop the construction of the world’s largest ground-based telescope on its summit. The protesters are being framed as anti-science and barriers to progress. This is a false choice that masks the bigger issue, she says. Who gets to decide the future? “I am kanaka ‘ōiwi, and I do science because I am Hawaiian,” she begins. “I research out of aloha ’āina, a deep familial love for the land.” There is a dark, colonial history of astronomy in Hawaii that’s worth learning. “I envision a future where the practice of science is truly ethical,” she says. “[W]here human rights, including the rights of indigenous people to self-determination, are upheld through the practice of science.” Massive Science

Research: Officer diversity doesn’t change racial disparities in police shootings Data published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences yesterday found that as the percentage of officers of color increase, citizens who are killed in officer-involved shootings are more likely to be people of color. The research also claims to find no evidence that white officers are more likely to fatally shoot people of color. Researchers used a database of 900 officer-involved shootings from 2015; their explanation for the primary findings were that the officers were drawn from the same demographic pool. By way of comparison, an investigation by The Guardian found that in 2015, people of color were more likely than their white counterparts to be killed by police officers. The Guardian

Trump administration seeks to remove food stamp benefits from 3.1 million people Currently, 43 states allow people to automatically qualify for Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, if they also qualify for other types of federal assistance; the proposed rule change would force 3.1 million to reapply for the benefit. If successful, the move could save the federal government some $2.5 billion a year. USDA Secretary Sonny Perdue said the change is to remove a loophole that let unqualified people participate. But Senator Debbie Stabenow, ranking member of the Senate Committee on Agriculture, Nutrition, and Forestry, says he’s wrong. “This rule would take food away from families, prevent children from getting school meals, and make it harder for states to administer food assistance.” SNAP provides free food to 40 million Americans, or about 12% of the total U.S. population. Reuters

On Background

The ‘safety net’ works, y’all Two Harvard University economists examined 133 U.S. policy changes over the 50 years looking for the biggest bang for the investment buck—which includes analyzing Medicare and Medicaid expansions, the introduction of food stamps, and dozens of state and local programs. The goal was to identify the interventions that saved the government money long term, typically by figuring out which who ended up need less assistance over time, or who were able to increase their earnings and taxes paid. Programs benefitting low-income kids were the clear winner; every dollar spent on education and health care programs returned 47 cents in down-the-road savings. “The results show there’s a potential to get really high returns when you’re focusing on kids,” says co-author Ben Sprung-Keyser. Wall Street Journal

What’s another way to be transgender in young adult novels? We live in a time in which its possible for a transgender or questioning teen to see themselves in works of fiction. This is tremendous progress, notes reviewer Clarence Harlan Orsi, ticking through a helpful list of popular books. But what comes next? “A lot has changed for trans people in the last 15 years, yet the novels reflect a relatively unified perspective,” he says. Part of the problem is the formulaic nature of YA novels themselves. “The pedagogy of these novels entails setting up a series of rites of passage and then repeating them in different iterations,” which always means some predictable moments—gender affirming prom clothes, the first bullying, coming out to an unwelcoming family. All of this requires a “didactic obligation” that masks missed opportunities to tell different stories. “[I]t is not enough to simply want to transition. Rather, these books must prove that changing genders is the only thing that will keep these characters alive.” L.A. Review of Books

Sixty years later, a picture of closeted love emerges This is a story that’s sure to bring the water to your eyes. In 1957, a young man dropped off a roll of film to be developed at his corner drug store. The pictures were of his wedding, but he never received them. The photos were of a touching commitment ceremony to another man, and the store manager withheld them for being “inappropriate.” But a warm-hearted clerk kept the pictures, hoping to run into the groom somewhere. Now, many years after her passing, the photos belong to an advocacy group who are looking to reunite the photos with either the couple or their families. Do you know them? The Philadelphia Citizen

Tamara El-Waylly helps produce raceAhead.

Quote

“I believe in white supremacy. We can’t all of a sudden get down on our knees and turn everything over to the leadership of the blacks… I don’t feel we did wrong in taking this great country away from [Native Americans], if that’s what you’re asking. Our so-called stealing of this country from them was just a matter of survival. There were great numbers of people who needed new land, and the Indians were selfishly trying to keep it for themselves.”

—John Wayne in an interview for Playboy

Credit: Source link

The post On Whose Land Do You Sit?: raceAhead appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/on-whose-land-do-you-sit-raceahead/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=on-whose-land-do-you-sit-raceahead from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.tumblr.com/post/186510070417

0 notes

velmaemyers88 · 5 years

Text

On Whose Land Do You Sit?: raceAhead

Hugh Weber is a consultant, a creative convener, a marketer, a design expert, an advocate for rural communities, and a dear friend to raceAhead.

So, I was prepared for his most recent TEDx talk, organized in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to be inspiring. But his elegant introduction got my attention first.

“So I would like to begin by thanking the Tongva people and by acknowledging that they are the rightful keepers of the land this star is on.”

But they’re also found in everyday moments, too.

I can now attest that land acknowledgment really makes you feel some type of way.

Let me know what you think.

He quickly makes the case that all dots are there to be connected if you’re just willing to open your heart and look. Enjoy.

On Point

On Background

Tamara El-Waylly helps produce raceAhead.

Quote

—John Wayne in an interview for Playboy

Credit: Source link

The post On Whose Land Do You Sit?: raceAhead appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

0 notes

weeklyreviewer · 5 years

Text

On Whose Land Do You Sit?: raceAhead

Hugh Weber is a consultant, a creative convener, a marketer, a design expert, an advocate for rural communities, and a dear friend to raceAhead.

So, I was prepared for his most recent TEDx talk, organized in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to be inspiring. But his elegant introduction got my attention first.

“So I would like to begin by thanking the Tongva people and by acknowledging that they are the rightful keepers of the land this star is on.”

But they’re also found in everyday moments, too.

I can now attest that land acknowledgment really makes you feel some type of way.

Let me know what you think.

He quickly makes the case that all dots are there to be connected if you’re just willing to open your heart and look. Enjoy.

On Point

On Background

Tamara El-Waylly helps produce raceAhead.

Quote

—John Wayne in an interview for Playboy

Credit: Source link

The post On Whose Land Do You Sit?: raceAhead appeared first on WeeklyReviewer.

from WeeklyReviewer https://weeklyreviewer.com/on-whose-land-do-you-sit-raceahead/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=on-whose-land-do-you-sit-raceahead

0 notes